Vile
by scabiorsgal
Summary: What could have happened in the forest between Hermione and that Snatcher. WARNING contains rape.


"Penelope Clearwater, Half-Blood," she replied, tipping her chin defiantly at her captor.

He didn't speak; merely reached very slowly for her hair, taking a lock and dragging it over her shoulder to his nose. She let out an almost inaudible gasp. Every nerve was standing at attention trying to anticipate his next move. He moved so confidently; he was slow and deliberate and it was off-putting.

"You smell like vanilla," he said, his eyes boring into hers, his breath ghosting over her face.

He then looked around to the other men and his face changed. It was cold, mocking now. He smiled, a twisted smile that made her insides freeze.

"You're going to be my favourite," he said, and gently ran his hands over her arms to her forearms where he held her.

He turned away from the group, pulling her with him as they started to cheer and speak amongst themselves. Hermione followed him a step, then another, then realized what he was about to do and froze in place, furiously trying to shrug him off of her forearms and screamed, "No!"

Ron started, "Don't touch her, I swear, I will kill you!"

Harry was also yelling but Hermione couldn't make out the words. Everything seemed to slow down including time. He had somehow come up behind her, wrapping an arm around her middle so he was pressed against her back. He leaned his nose into her hair and smelled again.

She acted quickly. Steeling her resolve, she brought down all her weight hard from her right foot, onto his foot, then elbowed him in the stomach.

He went down and she was able to get closer to Ron, but she was immediately startled by blinding pain. He had got a hold of her hair and was pulling it, yanking it so hard it brought tears to her eyes. "Please!." she cried out, her hands reaching for her hair.

His eyes were cold and she almost gasped as he looked at her. Then without a warning she again felt startling pain as her head snapped around. He had backhanded her square across her jaw. This brought more yelling from Harry and Ron and more cheering from the men.

His hand still in her hair, he pulled her closer to him, her head still yanked back cruelly. He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Apparently Miss Clearwater would prefer to stay here," he said, pausing to regard the men, who were egging him on. "I have no problem with honouring her request."

Hermione didn't understand what was going on and she was fading in and out from the savageness of his blow to her face. He pulled her by the hair; rather- pushed her to her knees.

"Your choice, lovely. Now boyfriend gets to watch."

The other snatchers reacted, some laughing, some cheering, and Hermione was still confused and not sure what was happening.

"You sick bastard!," Ron shouted and she heard a bit of a scuffle; then further attempts at protesting were muffled by a sharp punch to the gut.

"Please let her go!," Harry shouted. "Take me instead!"

Scabior released his grip on her hair and she fell forward, onto her hands and knees, almost down onto her stomach. Something stirred in her and she suddenly became more conscious. Her fingers curled around the dirt, making a ball in her hand.

Scabior chuckled at the ridiculousness of Harry's request.

"No I don't think so, ugly. You're not exactly my type. This girl will be more fun than you could ever be."

He reached down to flip Hermione onto her back and as he did, she threw the dirt in his face.

Scabior cried out and his hands went to his eyes as Hermione started pulling herself along the ground. But she did not get very far and then the hand was in her hair again, pulling, more painful than the first time, pulling her back to him. He slapped her again and everything went white for a moment.

She felt hands turning her onto her back, then fiddling at her waist. She felt the sensation of her jumper being lifted up and over her head, her hair trailing along through the neck of it and out behind her in the dirt.

Her head ached and it lolled to the side away from the men and Harry and Ron. She was so tired-it had been so hard to put up this much of a fight.

"No more o' that, eh girl?," he spoke roughly at her, her eyes still closed.

Then she felt his hands on her breasts in her bra.

"Don't touch her!," she heard and some other pleas and cries from her friends, along with sounds of punches to bodies.

His right hand reached into the cup to run lightly around her nipple. Her body shook involuntarily.

"There we are," he said softly, to her, and repeated the motion, eliciting the same response along with an unintentional sigh he mistook for lust.

He grazed her skin again, and she could hear what she thought was Ron crying and Harry retching. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes and opened them, looking above at her captor.

"Don't worry, my lovely," he said, laying on his side next to her, touching her breast intimately. "Because you have shown so much spirit, I have decided instead of killing you, I would very much enjoy breaking you."

Hermione heard this and immediately tensed, a tiny gasp escaping her throat.

The hand on her tender skin stilled, and he continued talking. "No, no. Nothing like that. I will make you come apart in my arms. And make your friends watch. Because I have figured out that you are indeed Ms. Granger, and those are your friends. So, I have Harry Potter and I don't really need you. But it will be enjoyable to make you live with regret for the rest of your life."

His fingers resumed their feather-light touches and she shuddered under him.

"You see? It's so much better this way."

His hand moved from her nipple and joined its mate at the waistband of her jeans. Her hands came up immediately to cover the top of her jeans so he couldn't do anything.

"Now, if you are a good girl and don't fight me, I may bring all of you in unharmed. I may even be persuaded to let you go. If you cooperate, that is. Up to you," he said.

"But it does mean you need to stop trying to maim me. Do we understand each other?," he asked, his voice still measured and even which made it all the more terrifying.

"You are...vile...," she said, her voice no more than a whisper as she struggled to find the right word.

"Don't, Hermione!," she heard Harry yell and Ron mutter something under his breath.

She looked in her captor's eyes, his body now pressed against her intimately and gave him a slow nod. As she did so the tears which had been forming fell from her eye. He reached a finger up and caught one, flicking it away as he gave her a horrible tight lipped smile.

He moved his hands to her jeans again and she reactively moved to try and stop him, but a stern look from him made her still. She slowly put her hands down against the ground searching for something to hold on to but sadly finding nothing but earth.

He pulled her trainers off and her jeans down her legs and threw them away as she exhaled slowly, willing her heart to slow down. She could see in her periphery the werewolf looking creature licking his lips as the men cheered him on.

"You bastard!," she heard again, followed by a punch of some sort.

She was in her knickers now and her bra and he eyed her hungrily. Slowly, his hands went to her knickers and started pulling them slowly down her legs. She was shaking; Hermione had never been so terrified in her life. It was a terrible thing, he was being so slow and deliberate it was almost like he was acting the part of a lover. The leering and catcalls of the men faded into the distance and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears.

The man unzipped himself and Hermione refused to look. She kept her eyes trained on his, refusing to back down from the unspoken challenge. He spit on his hand and brought it to the place between her legs. She was so sensitive and gasped, momentarily tensing as he touched her _there_ before trying to scoot back. He grabbed her legs and held her, softly stroking the skin behind her knee for a moment as he felt her relax on the ground.

He took himself in his hand which she also would not directly look at, and he pushed inside her slowly.

He met with resistance after that and she could feel the barrier that would soon be no more.

She shut her eyes, tensing, and braced for the pain, but he had stilled.

"Gents...it appears Miss Granger is a virgin!," he said, and a roar went out among them.

"GET OFF HER!," Ron was shouting and Harry was pleading and offering anything for his friend's release.

He looked back down at Hermione, her eyes screwed shut, her hands digging into the earth. His voice softened as he brought himself near her ear.

"It's alright, my lovely. It won't hurt. I will treat you well, I promise."

Then he started kissing her neck and her pent up breath left her lungs in a whoosh as he inched forward, finishing his task. He stilled for a moment before moving.

Hermione hoped Harry and Ron had turned away. She couldn't bring herself to look.

Hermione's breathing sped up as his pace increased, and as he touched her she arched her back, crying out, ashamed at herself, ashamed at her body, but realizing it was a natural biological reaction. She tried to clamp her legs shut and began to struggle when he pressed his weight into her, stilling her.

"Remember our deal?," he said, looking her dead in the eyes.

She was breathing heavy, but she did remember the deal, and wanted to save her friends. She nodded to him.

"I'm going to break you, Hermione," he said, speaking into her ear so only she could hear him. "I'm going to make you break apart into a thousand pieces in more ways than one."

Then she felt a large palm pressing against her lower abdomen, which made her feel strange. He was moving more quickly now, and she was struggling to not react or cry out. The added pressure of his hand only served to heighten the already intense sensations. Then she realized what was happening, and she hated herself for it.

"Let it go. Your body wants to let it go," he said, his hand pressing into her as he moved.

And then it happened. She released for the first time in her life with a man. At the hands of this madman. Crying over the edge of insanity.

He slowed moving but did not stop, as he regarded the tears which now fell freely.

"Why are you crying? Did it hurt?," he asked, faux concern lacing his voice. He was teasing her.

She shook her head, disgusted by her reaction to him.

"Well if it didn't hurt then why don't you just relax and enjoy it?," he spoke, resuming his motions.

He was a monster, she thought as she sobbed loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Please," she started, her voice hoarse.

"Again," he said, shaking his head in response to her pleas.

"No, please," she started and he stilled. But it was only to grab her legs and make her wrap them around him.

"Keep them like this," he hissed, meaning for her to lock her legs around him.

He moved again and she cried out, as he hit her sensitive flesh again and again.

"Please..." she tried again, placing her hands on his chest, trying to fight off him and the feeling that was growing in the pit of her stomach, but to no avail.

"No. I want you to do that again," he almost grunted against her neck as she felt the sweat break out against her chest. "I want you to scream."

He moved once, twice, three times and she was crying out, arching into him, grinding herself against him, biologically overpowered and seeking that release she so desperately craved. She pulled him against her as tightly as she could; anything to get closer to that fine point which hung somewhere between pleasure and pain. He moved against her and she was tensing and almost there when he held himself back.

'No no nonononono' her mind screamed as she looked at his face, confused, her eyebrows knit together, still trying to desperately push her lower body against his. His hands went to her hips, stilling them and holding her in place.

He was breathing hard as he held her there and spoke quietly in her ear. "Beg me. Beg me to continue."

He was horrid. And she knew in that moment that he was the most vile man she had ever met. And that today would change her for the rest of her life.

She shook her head and his large hand went around her throat, squeezing gently.

"Beg."

She was about to shake her head again as she felt his hand constricting her airway more tightly this time.

"I ...will never beg you," she said softly trying to get words out with her airway obstructed.

He quickly leaned next to her ear, so only she could hear, and whispered,

"Slap me."

Hermione tensed, unsure of what to do.

"It's alright. Slap me," he said again and when he gave her that terrifying smile she immediately obliged, terrified, but hoping for anything to stop the pressure on her throat. She smacked him as hard as he could across his cheek and once he recovered from the momentary stun, he pinned her even more savagely than before.

He pounded into her, his hand pressing on her windpipe, and it only took a few seconds to send her over the edge. He watched her; watched her give up her morals, and her soul and her body to him, and that was enough to make his body respond; pulling him over the edge in an instant.

She lay back, his weight on top of her, the smell of sweat and of him hanging in the air. Several moments passed and she felt her heartbeat returning to normal.

He muttered a contraceptive spell and pushed himself up, fastening his pants as he stood, leaving her half naked on the cold ground. She shivered at the loss of heat.

His back to her, he ran a hand through his hair, then turned to her, exhaling.

He reached a hand down for her. She realized he meant for her to stand. Confused, she looked around finding her clothes. She shrugged into her knickers, somewhat in a daze.

"Did you want my help?," he asked, looking down at her and leering.

She hurried into her jeans and trainers in response. There were hushed noises from the men as she bent down to pick up her jumper and put it on. She ventured a glance at her friends.

Harry had his eyes closed and Ron had turned his back to her. They hadn't been able to watch.

Hermione sank all of a sudden. Losing herself was one thing, but disappointing her friends was something else entirely.

She fell on her hands and knees and lost the remnants of her lunch.

She heard his boots crunching over the dead leaves and twigs and he spoke to the men.

"Miss Granger here has fulfilled our agreement. We're not taking this lot to the Ministry."


End file.
